


In Order to See

by j_quadrifrons



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, M/M, Male Solo, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, ace subtype: asexual but horny, beholding kink, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 09:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_quadrifrons/pseuds/j_quadrifrons
Summary: Elias knows everything about his fledgling Archivist, knows that he dates rarely and doesn't sleep with the ones he does, so this had been, at first, a surprising part of Jon's daily routine.





	In Order to See

**Author's Note:**

> bringing you the Ace But Horny representation we all deserve (and also Elias's Beholding kink and near-religious devotion, because why not)
> 
> thanks to fatal_drum for the beta (& the reassurance that I am not in fact too ace to write smut)

Jon has been going home early these days, reluctant to be caught outside after dark. There's no point in telling him that the Flesh Hive does not care about the time of day, or that it would be safer for him to stay in the Archives than to leave at all. The risk is really very small even now, but Elias watches his Archivist make his way home anyway, watches him move through his evening routine, predictable and painfully solitary. Elias himself is home in his living room, slowly sipping a glass of Tyrconnell and absently going through some paperwork with one Eye on Jon, but he hardly qualifies as alone.

His attention sharpens as Jon undresses to climb into the shower (too thin, Elias notes with slight concern, the wings of his shoulderblades stark and beautiful) and sighs under the hot spray. Eyes closed, Jon's shoulders relax as he leans against the shower wall and takes himself in hand.

Elias knows everything about his fledgling Archivist, knows that he dates rarely and doesn't sleep with the ones he does, so this had been, at first, a surprising part of Jon's daily routine. A surprise, but a pleasant one, certainly. He's wonderful to watch, his head tipped back, baring his throat to the soft fall of water as his hand slowly works his cock. After nearly a year Elias has learned the details well. Jon likes it a little harsh, a little too fast, letting out a soft moan when the rough edge of a fingernail catches on delicate skin.

He doesn't think about anyone else when he does this, Elias found when he stretched himself to dip into Jon's thoughts all unheeded. He doesn't fantasize about touching or being touched. He only gives himself over to physical sensation, cool tile against his back, warm water in his hair, the steady building pressure of arousal as he strokes himself firmly.

Elias fantasizes. He's always found self-delusion particularly pitiful, and at any rate he has nothing to be ashamed of. This is his Archivist, however new and untested but oh so promising, the avatar of his god in the process of becoming. There is no part of him that will not belong to Beholding, nothing that Elias does not need to Know. Besides, however lovely he is even in his too-stuffy work clothes and wearing that permanent scowl of frustration, he's impossibly lovelier like this, pulse fluttering at the base of his throat, muscles in his shoulder tensing, breath coming in tiny gasps as he works himself steadily toward completion. Watching him, Elias thinks of the day when Jon will know what he serves and what he is, when he will think back to times like this and wonder if Elias was watching. He thinks about the day when Jon will Know. A shudder runs through him at the thought, and he presses the heel of his hand down hard on his cock.

Jon's breath goes ragged, and Elias watches as he finally comes with a low moan, spurting steadily over long, elegant fingers. Elias indulges in the thought of replacing Jon's fingers with his own, stroking Jon through his climax with his mouth on Jon's skin, then carrying on through the aftershocks until Jon is writhing and begging beneath him, pleading with Elias to stop, to continue, to touch him, to get closer. He would leave a bite mark on Jon's collarbone, he thinks. It is remarkable how closely a human bite mark can resemble an eye.

The paperwork has long since been abandoned; Elias is leaning back on the sofa, undoing his trousers at last, thinking of how long it will be before Jon will Watch him in turn, before he is so taken by the Beholding that he cannot look away, no matter his own proclivities. But he hasn't fully turned his attention away from Jon, and he's delighted to see that the evening is not over yet. Rather than dressing in pajamas, Jon simply wraps a towel around his hips. After a moment's thought he grabs another from the cupboard before heading to bed.

Jon strips the covers from the bed and spreads out the towel. From the drawer of the nightstand he fishes out a small bottle, more than half empty, and a gratifyingly large dildo. Then he undoes the towel around his hips and arranges himself on the bed, his legs falling open easily, and he slicks the fingers of his right hand and begins to work himself open.

As much as Elias loves to watch his Archivist stroke his cock, this is so much better. Jon is so much more vocal like this, his breath coming in little moans even though he only has two fingers inside himself and Elias knows, from the few times he's enjoyed this particular scene before, that he'll need two more before he can take the silicone cock lying on the towel by his hip.

The pressure is too much at last and Elias pulls out his own cock, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before he forces his hand back to his side. This isn't such a common occurrence that he wants to waste the opportunity to enjoy it fully. Jon is pressing his head back into the pillows, his breath coming in little whimpering moans as he works in another finger, too soon and with not enough lube, but he doesn't slow down.

Jon would enjoy being held down, Elias is sure; he would go weak and pliant for a hand over his mouth or on his throat. Elias would press his thumb into Jon's pulse while he told him exactly how to touch himself, when to add another finger and when to stop moving entirely, waiting, trembling, for Elias's permission to continue.

When Jon starts to work the toy into himself, Elias dips into his thoughts just for the sheer joy of watching his Archivist's sharp mind dissolved in sensation, the fullness and the stretch and the burn of insufficient preparation. Greedy, Elias thinks fondly. Then Jon finds the right angle and all other thoughts are wiped out in a white hot spike of pleasure. Elias grips the base of his cock firmly, Jon's low moan ringing in his mind.

It won't be much longer now. Elias strokes himself to the rhythm Jon has set and the helpless little gasps he fucks out of himself. Fantasy isn't enough now, it can't compare to what he craves, to hear Jon's voice begging for him, to come buried deep in Jon's body, eyes locked together, Seeing and being Seen, Knowing and being Known, all his barriers stripped away --

Jon reaches his climax again with a sharp cry and an arch of his spine, and Elias follows moments after. He steadies his breathing and keeps watching Jon, who lies boneless and trembling for long minutes before he even attempts to withdraw the toy. The soft, pained noise he makes at the loss would be maddening if Elias had anything left in him at all. As it is he simply watches Jon, usually so fastidious, clean himself perfunctorily with the towel and toss it and the toy off the side of the bed before wrapping himself in the blankets and falling easily into sleep.

Elias has every intention of finishing up his paperwork this evening - after a shower. Jon's dreams are still sparse and unsatisfying; it's early days yet, Elias reassures himself, but he is greedy too. He's waited so long for this. He can't imagine what kind of promise the previous Head had seen in Gertrude, especially after seeing what Jon can do after so little time. He cherishes the image he has of the day, a long way off still but closer than it's ever been, when he kneels at his Archivist's feet and the world is made over at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come yell about TMA with me, I have too many feelings  
[@j_quadrifrons](https://twitter.com/j_quadrifrons), [backofthebookshelf](https://backofthebookshelf.tumblr.com)


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